


Boogie Man

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Little More Human, Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Secrets, Bogey, Brotherly Estrangement, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Clubbing, Creepy, Croquemitaine, Culling, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Ghostly Condition, Hagondes, Human Sacrifice, Kinderschrecker, Lure, Lustucru, M/M, Mild Language, Monster mash, Murder Most Foul, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Skatene, Terror, Urban Legends, Urban Legends Bite Back, Warnings for Children, divide and conquer, doping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam protects Kevin as he finishes his final exams for college. Dean and Castiel investigate a case out in Gallup, New Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hagondes

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : Through episode 08x20 Pac-Man Fever

**Gallup, New Mexico**. Linus moved through the saturated dance floor, giddy at his latest score. He'd taken more than he usually did, but it was Friday and the entire weekend was ahead of him.

"Line-us!" yelled his friend Nigel. 

He changed course to meet up with his friend. They usually came together or with a group to the Halo Hallows every weekend, although as of late the group had made it a daily habit. 

"Nigel, where's Amy?" he asked as soon as he got to their high-standing table.

"She went out to score some from The Clown." 

Linus shivered. He didn't mind clowns in general, but The Clown was a dealer in a clown mask. He dealt exclusively in crystal meth and ecstasy, and he hid his face with an ugly, long-nosed clown mask. Some people had taken to calling the dealer the Ice Cream Man, because he came around to the clubs once, maybe twice, a night, and he somehow coordinated his arrival and departure times with specific club songs. 

The entire scenario gave Linus the willies. Maybe it was the combination of childhood icons with illegal drugs that creeped Linus out. Or maybe he just preferred to look a guy in the eyes when buying from him.

"You let her go out on her own for a buy?" Linus asked Nigel. "From The Clown? You're kidding."

"I had to go to the can," Nigel replied. "Chill out, she can handle herself."

"I'm gonna check up, okay?"

"You get me some stuff?" Nigel asked, sliding Linus a few twenties. 

"Fine," Linus chirped as he plowed through the crowd to the side door.

Once he stepped out into the mild night air, the music dropped, but the bass permeated the building's shell. Amy bumped against his shoulder on her way back in.

"Sorry – oh, Linus," she said. 

"You're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, heading back in. Are you – "

"I'll be right in after you," Linus replied. "Go on."

The music flared up full throttle as the door swung opened, and Amy ducked back inside. 

Linus headed toward The Clown, who looked particularly sinister in the alley lights, which had an odd purple-ish glow. 

The Clown held up a fist, and Linus responded with two fingers on his forehead. The Clown nodded yes and returned the signal, so Linus proceeded. The exchange was quick and simple, but something felt off.

"That your dog?" The Clown asked. 

Linus turned his head to see a large dog disappearing around the alley. 

"No, man," he replied. 

"You should follow it," The Clown said. 

Linus couldn't get the dog out of his head. He stared where the dog used to be, wondering – 

"Follow the dog," someone said.

Linus jerked suddenly aware, alert, and startled. He must've zoned out for several minutes at least because The Clown wasn't in the alley with him anymore. 

"Follow the dog."

'Who said that?' Linus thought to himself. At the same time, he didn't actually care. 

Something moved beyond the alley. It was the dog he'd seen earlier. It was large and shaggy with a deep, dark, silky coat. Its breath heaved out like a smoke, thick as fog, and its eyes reflected back far too much light.

Linus's eyes met the dog's, and the clock stopped. 

"Follow the dog."

Linus obeyed this time, leaving the anthemic thumping of the club music to shadow the soft padding rhythm of the animal's footsteps. 

He didn't keep track of how far he'd walked, and his recent high tainted his perception of time. His legs and back ached, but he couldn't stop. He had to follow the dog. 

"Whatcher name?" someone asked. It was the first thing he'd really heard anything since The Clown's voice, so he stopped.

"Linus," he said to no one in particular. 

"Linus," the stranger repeated. "Wanna come in?"

The stranger had a long, black coat to match his long, dark hair. He should have blended into the darkness around him, but for some reason, Linus could see nothing else but this man and his invitation to step through the door.

"Yes," Linus replied idly. 

The stranger waved him inside. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a sharp pain plunged into his lower spine, then again into his upper back, and then finally into his neck. His own blood choked him, and he spun around to see the stranger's eyes glowing a glistening red. 

As terror bubbled up into his slowly fading mind, the stranger's formed became sludge, then reverted to the shaggy dog, its eyes ever red.

 

Castiel's eyes were closed, but angels don't sleep. If they did, Dean imagined Cas would be asleep for years. He offered the angel some small measure of comfort: a hand, a touch, a kiss. 

Cas remained listless and distant. Were it not for Dean's insistence that he stay inside the bunker, away from angelic assassination attempts, he'd probably be in hiding somewhere in the cosmos or on some kind of walkabout between the stars. 

"Cas, you've been in bed all day," Dean said, "and not in a good way."

"Yes, Dean," he replied without opening his eyes. 

"You need to get up," Dean continued. "We need you on your feet, Cas."

"I understand."

Castiel didn't move.

Dean crawled into bed beside him, crowding Cas's space, tangling up with him. Cas didn't resist, didn't move, didn't open his eyes.

"Cas," Dean pleaded. "None of this was your fault."

"Unfortunately, the fact does not eradicate the feeling that the guilt is mine," Cas said in complete deadpan. 

"Look at me."

"No."

"Damnit, Cas, grow a pair and look at me!" Dean barked. 

"No."

Dean turned the angel's face towards him, then gently moved his thumb to open one of his eyes. Cas shook him off and pushed Dean's hands away from his face.

"Stop it," Cas commanded. 

Dean struggled against his partner, not letting him pull or push away. Finally, annoyed and exhausted from the effort, Cas opened his eyes. 

"Dean," he whispered. "Please."

"Sam's in New Jersey watching over a Prophet that is too stubborn to do anything but finish his Fall exams. Sam's FBI buddy, whoever she is, is trying to relocate the Hunter Tweens without drawing too much suspicion, and we're here, Cas. Not helping. Not working. You understand?"

"You should help your brother," Cas replied dryly. 

"I'm helping you," Dean pressed.

"I can't – "

"You can!"

"Dean, I can't. Don't you understand?"

"No, no I don't," Dean admitted. "But what I know is that you can't stay in this bed any long, okay? You're going to get your ass up and then you are gonna help me figure this shit out. You understand?"

Castiel closed his eyes and leaned his head in, allowing his forehead to press against Dean's. He opened his crystal blue eyes and replied, "It's happening all over again, don't you see?"

"Then we're gonna stop this all over again, you understand?"

"You have faith."

"No, I have a bunker full of books and weapons," Dean said, "and we've been up against this before with a lot less and came up alive. We can do this, but I need you, Cas. Okay? I need you."

Cas wasn't convinced, but he nodded. He took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, getting to his feet with some difficulty. 

"Is this how you feel?" Castiel asked.

"What?" Dean said, coming to the angel's side. 

"When you are defeated and manipulated and beaten," Cas said, "is this how you feel?"

"Sometimes," Dean said. "But you're none of those things, Castiel."

His hunter wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug, brushing his cheek with his lips in what might be a kiss. The angel turned his head and embraced a second, real kiss, long and warm and comforting. 

"I know," Cas said. "I know," he repeated, as if saying it made him believe it more. "Where do we start?" 

Dean guided him out the door downstairs to the war room.


	2. Skatene

**Princeton, New Jersey**. Sam paced the length of the hallway, pretending to be interested in the displays along the wall. So far no one looked twice at the overlarge man strolling the halls at Princeton. 

Finally, Kevin Tran left the room, smiling as he walked over to Sam.

"You look happy," Sam remarked.

"That was easy," Kevin replied.

"Compared to the Angel Tablet Trials? Sure," Sam said. 

"Shhh," Kevin said, indicating the general silence.

They walked out of the building and headed towards the parking lot. Sam kept pushing Kevin to walk faster.

"Dude, come on," Kevin said, "a few extra minutes isn't gonna kill us."

"You don't know that," Sam said. "My car's in the second lot."

"Why would Lucifer even care about me?" Kevin asked. "It's not like – "

"He's worse than Crowley," Sam said. "He's got power, influence, and – there's no telling what he'll do now that his Apocalypse plans have fallen apart. He had the Angel Tablet, Kev. He'll wanna know what's on it."

They reached his truck, and Kevin popped into the passenger seat. 

"Krissy and Aiden packed up your dorm room," Sam said as he turned the car on. 

"Wait, what?"

"It was either them or your mom," Sam replied. 

"Okay, okay, fine, but are you – "

"We're not having this conversation again," Sam said shortly. "There's no time, and it's just too dangerous."

"I was just getting my life back, Sam," Kevin said. "Don't think I won't fight for it again."

"I know," Sam replied as he drove them away from the university parking lot.

Sam didn't make the turn to the Tran residence; instead, he drove towards the highway. Kevin didn't need to ask where they were going.

"What's gonna happen to my mom?" he asked. "Is she coming with us?"

"No," Sam replied. "She and Aiden and Krissy and Jo are all being relocated by a friend of mine in the FBI."

"The FBI can protect my mom from angels?"

"No, Cas has gave her the full rib carving," Sam replied. "All of them, actually."

"Doesn't that mean he can't find them either?"

"Yeah, but it'll be ok."

"Will it ever be?"

"We'll figure it out," Sam said. "We will. Right now, I just gotta make sure you stay alive."

"Wow, comforting," Kevin griped. 

"I thought so."

 

 **Gallup, New Mexico**. Dean rarely worked a full case with Cas as his sole wingman, and he wasn't sure how well this one would go given the angel's recent drop into a comatose depression. Dean could only hope working a case would restore Cas's confidence. 

They stepped out of the car, suited up and ready, though Castiel's usually blank demeanor was weighed down by tiredness. It was dusk.

"Agents Rogers and Steel," Dean said as they both flashed their badges at the local officers.

"Glad your here. Detective Dezaree Sommer," she said by way of introduction, "but everyone calls me Sommer."

"Agent Rogers, you can call me Dean," he replied. "This is Agent Steel."

"Great. This one is off-the-charts weird."

"That's our kind of case," Cas replied, sounding oddly human.

"No, this ain't anyone's kinda case," Sommer replied. "Come on."

She waved them into a ground floor door that opened immediately to stairs. Dean carefully walked down, examining the walls and creepy interior. 

"Someone lives here?" Dean asked. 

"Not exactly," Sommer replied.

They fanned out in the bottom room, which seemed to be more of a basement storage room than a home.

"Ah, I see," Cas remarked. 

Tupperware graced every shelf, as if it were on display, and they were all filled with -

"Are those, uh – "

"Human," Sommer replied. "Yep. That one's a full human hand. And we've got a foot and six heads."

"Six heads?" Dean asked. "You know who they are?"

"We've IDed some of them, but we got here thanks to this one," Sommer said, indicating the far right head. "Linus Gallagher."

"Linus, awesome," Dean said. "What makes him so special?"

"He was reported missing by a very adamant citizen, who happens to be related to one of our officers."

"How long was he missing?" Cas asked.

"About twelve hours," she replied. "Like I said, family member checked into it. Saw him walking zombie-like from a club on some security footage. He got cam feed from the surrounding buildings, and Bob's your uncle, Linus walked to this door."

"Zombie-like?" Dean asked almost sounding hopeful.

"Yeah, wacked out on something," Sommer replied. 

"We're going to need that footage."

"Of course."

"I see six heads, twelve hands, twelve feet," Castiel said mildly, as if running a basic inventory check.

"And?"

"Nothing else," Cas replied with a twinge of annoyance. "No blood, no bones or bone fragments. No limbs, torsos, or organs – "

"Yeah, we think this guy is running a black market organ donation thing," Sommer said. "Takes the bulk of the bodies so we can't be sure – "

"Why would he do that?" Dean asked. "Take everything but hands, feet, head? And you said this last guy was high, right? I'm not a doctor, but drug users wouldn't be a good target for this kinda thing."

"Beggars can't be choosers, right? And organ harvesters need to cover their tracks, so – "

"Leaving the heads on display is not congruent to 'covering tracks'," Cas said, sounding more like his awkward angelic self. "The hands will allow you to identify them, will they not?"

"Uh, yeah, if they're in the system – "

"So he left precisely what your investigators need to know who has been killed here," Cas said casually. "That does not bode well."

Sommer cast a look at Dean that roughly translated to "What the hell?"

"Uh, Agent Steel," Dean said. "Maybe we should look around before drawing conclusions?"

"Very well," Cas said shortly. 

"We're gonna need copies of the files for this," Dean said to Sommer as she made her way out. "Can we – "

She turned and handed him a large, clipped stack of papers. "Enjoy."

When Dean seemed surprised by this, she said, "Look, if your partner is right, and this isn't an organ-harvesting ring, then it's something a lot more twisted, and – let's just say, I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah, right, thanks," Dean replied.

As soon as she was up the stairs, Dean examined the area himself. There was a small drain in the middle of the floor. He grabbed a tissue and tossed it over the drain, and it immediately turned reddish-brown. 

"Blood."

"A lot of it," Cas replied. "They were slaughtered on the stairs and then dismembered here."

"Uh, what?"

"I fail to understand what was confusing about that statement," Cas remarked dryly. 

"Nothing, you're right," Dean replied. "What about EMF or anything?"

"No EMF or sulfur, but something was here," said the angel. "The cuts along the neck, the ankle, the wrists? They were made by very sharp teeth, though it's likely the authorities will consider it done by tools."

"Teeth?" Dean said. "How can you tell from looking?"

Cas sounded annoyed when he replied, "It's not from looking, it's from smell."

"Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"You said we had to check this out," Cas replied. "I only came along because you insisted. I don't have to relish it."

"I'm not asking you to," Dean replied, "just drop the sour attitude."

Cas scowled, but he made no reply. 

"So this isn't some crazy human, right? This is definitely our case?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Dean," Cas said with some annoyance still lingering. "We need to look at the footage, see what they missed."

"Okay," Dean said as he led his angel out onto the street.

 

Nigel Delossantos was in his own personal Hell. He should never have asked Linus to score for him.

His hands shook, but he didn't care. He needed the buzz to keep him from dropping, but it was making him a little hot. He stumbled outside for some air.

Nigel found himself staring at the stars outside his house. The soft padding of feet drew his attention down to a black, shaggy dog about ten yards from him. 

He always liked dogs, and something about this one made him feel lonely. He stepped forward, stumbling slightly, and he realized he had taken a lot more than he needed. 

It didn't matter. He needed to follow that dog.

 

Cas seemed slightly better when they settled into a cramped tech room with an overly excited officer. 

"Name's Noah, Noah Gilmer," he said. "Agents. You're here to see the footage?"

"We are," Cas said. 

"Okay, so we have footage from some store fronts, outside the club, and a few traffic cameras. I've set it up chronologically for you."

"Great, play it," Dean said shortly. 

Noah scrambled to start the footage. Linus Gallagher stumbled out of the alley alongside the club then continued down the main street.

"How far did he walk?" Dean asked.

"About twelve blocks, but the blocks here aren't typical city blocks, so it's like about a mile," Noah said. 

"What's that?" Castiel said, pointing at the screen. 

"Back it up," Dean ordered Noah. 

"It's a dog, I guess," Noah said. "So what?"

Cas turned to Dean, "We need to see every frame that has that dog in it, and before he emerged from that side street."

"Sorry, what?" Noah asked.

"Agent Steel is just filling me in. That first camera footage, can you back it up? Before the guy came out?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Noah said. 

"Stop, there," Cas ordered. "Play it from there."

A tall, dark figure moved out of frame before the dog appeared. On the screen it looked to be little more than a shadow. Feedback and noise clouded its features.

"Can you make this more clear?" Cas asked Noah.

"Uh, no, sorry."

"Is that normal?" Dean asked, pointing out the noise and broken pixels. 

"No, actually that's the only time that anomaly appears on the screen."

"Ok, can we get a shot of this, and a few of that dog?" Dean asked.

Noah turned around and looked inquisitively at Dean. "Sorry, I don't see what the dog has to do with this man's death," Noah stated blandly. 

"Werewolf," Castiel said, completely deadpan. 

Noah laughed, but no on else joined him. "Seriously?" he asked. 

"What my partner means, Noah, is that we're not allowed to disclose information about our investigation, even when people think we're absolutely out of it," Dean placated. "So, can we get this rolling please?"

Noah shrugged and set to work.

 

Castiel stretched out along the motel bed, taking up almost all of it. Dean sat next to him, staring down at his angel. 

"Cas, we gotta talk."

"Do we?"

"What's up with you?"

"Besides the impending nature of yet another Apocalypse, the rising of one of the most dangerous entities I've ever known, and the constant threat of death from my own brethren?"

"I like that my sarcasm is rubbing off on you," Dean said as Castiel rolled his eyes. "But most of that stuff you said was true before the whole amnesia witch whammy."

"The whole, 'amnesia witch whammy,'" Cas said, actually miming air quotes, "was a byproduct of Lucifer, Dean."

"I mean, what if the whammy is still going?" Dean asked. "Maybe there's something else going on?"

"What difference does that make?" Cas asked.

"The difference is this is not like you. This isn't even like me, okay? It's like your personality is changing overnight. Sounds like a spell to me."

"No, Dean, all that's happening is that the good things I've done – that we've done – are all coming undone," Cas replied. "And soon we'll be dead because of it."

Dean slid his hand up Castiel's leg to his knee. "Listen, Cas, we both know that's not true. The horsemen aren't up to bat anymore. He sprung out of the cage without all of his angel mojo, right? Otherwise there would be earthquakes and fire falling from the sky like last time."

Cas blinked his eyes slowly. "I suppose, but – "

"No buts," Dean interrupted. "We're gonna figure this shit out, okay? But first we gotta figure this case out. So tell me whatcha got."

The angel stared up at the ceiling. "For all intensive purposes, I have no idea. The pattern roughly matches an off shoot of the Skatene."

"Skatene?" Dean said. "Is that a thing?"

"From the folklore of the indigenous people of North America," the angel continued dryly. "Skatene could transform into an animal, an owl. She appeared to be kind person so a family would invite her in. Then she would decapitate the father and retreat to the woods."

"Except in this case, the thing was a shadow that transformed into a big dog. And people seem to follow it into danger."

"As I said, for all intensive purposes, nothing. I only thought of the Skatene because of the heads."

"What else do we know about this Skatene bitch?"

"It's one of many creatures classified as a bogey."

"A boogie man," Dean said. "Except usually they are used to frighten children."

"In this case, the creature seems to be indiscriminately targeting adolescence."

"Most of these people were early twenties, Cas, way past puberty."

"Adolescence isn't about puberty, physical maturity," Cas began. Then he paused for a moment and took Dean's hand. "You didn't have much of a childhood. You always knew loss, danger, responsibility."

"Learned how to either make a quick buck when Dad was away or steal it," Dean added with a bright smile. "Your point?"

"Adolescence is the time from childhood to independent adulthood. You have always needed to be independent, even before your body was mature. All the victims in that room were mature," Cas said, "but none of them were independent adults. They were all adolescence." 

For some reason, Cas's words hit Dean like a bag of ice. 

"Dean, it's two in the morning, you need to sleep."

"You're taking up the entire bed!"

"That's never stopped you before."


	3. Croquemitaine

Dean returned to the motel room with breakfast. He missed Sam, not just because he usually got up first to get the food, but also because Dean hated being the polite and pleasant partner. 

"Cas," he said, "I got food."

"I don't need to eat."

"Bacon and eggs," Dean pressed. "Come on, Cas, you like this."

"I was thinking about what you said," Cas replied, "and I believe I understand what you mean. About the witch's spell."

"You think maybe something's still going?"

"I think that it would be nice to believe that burning a hex bag would solve my concerns," Cas said quietly. "And entertaining that fantasy was nice. To believe that Lucifer isn't back and that a spell made me believe so. But I know better. And you should, too, Dean."

"You wanna tell me then why you were comatose for two days?"

"He told me he would make a binding promise in exchange for my Grace," Cas said. "Not to harm you or Sam."

"And the rest of the world? What about them?"

"Part of me doesn't care," Cas replied. "Not anymore."

Dean suddenly understood. "Cas, you're not the first person to feel that way."

"Maybe not, but I am the first angel."

Dean clapped his hand on the angel's shoulder. "No, you're not. Come on, you know that." He waited, but Cas didn't respond. "Look, either you can beat yourself up for the way you feel, or you can beat whatever freak is ganking people in this city."

"That is an odd dichotomy."

"Shut up and eat your food before I do."

 

 **Lebanon, Kansas**. Kevin sat at the kitchen table, happy for a few minutes. The Bunker was a hundred times better than Garth's safe house boat, but it wasn't the same as a dorm room or his mom's house. 

Living with three young hunters and his mom was a strange arrangement, but it had become home. Every weekend, he'd walk in the front door to find the house teeming with people. When he was younger, it had just been the two of them, but now his family was Jo, Aiden, Krissy, even the Winchesters and Castiel, though they were more like the odd uncles than siblings. 

Sometimes the house felt crowded, but for the most part, it made him feel connected. He wasn't some prophet stuck in the desert, apart from humanity reading some rocks. 

And now that he's had a real taste of that, one that was safe and comforting and prepared, Kevin wouldn't let it go. Jo and Aiden knew how to fight, and Krissy was practically a full-on hunter.

The Prophet made up his mind. No matter what it took, he would wrest a future for himself and his family. 

Sam Winchester ducked into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and with odd hair. 

"Morning," Sam said.

"Dean and Cas aren't here?" Kevin asked. 

"No, Dean dragged him out on some case in New Mexico trying to get him to function again."

"Uhm, is that a gay thing?" Kevin asked. "I don't mean that in a bad way – "

"What? No, no, it's not a relationship thing," Sam said. Had he not been so groggy, he would have flushed. "Cas got depressed after bumping into Lucifer."

"Understandable, meeting Satan would make me wanna hide," Kevin replied. "Did it work?"

"I guess so, Dean called me asking for research," Sam said. "But damned if I don't have my coffee first."

"Let me help," Kevin said. "I can start now."

"You don't have to – "

"I am stuck here until Hell freezes over, or you guys fill the sink hole, or whatever," Kevin replied, using his wit to mask his frustration. "So in the meantime, I'm going to do something."

"Right, thanks."

 

 **Gallup, New Mexico**. Dean and Cas were both hung up in the motel room. 

"Agent Rogers," Dean said into his phone. "Uh, sorry, say that one again? Okay." 

"Another murder?" Castiel asked.

Dean nodded to the angel as he hung up.

Cas said, "That fits with the pattern of a bogey."

"Uh, Cas, this time the guy left the head, hands, and feet on display. Outside a nightclub."

"Monsters are classified as bogeys when they are used as warnings," Cas replied. "This one is more overt than usual."

"You wanna get Sam on the phone, talk with him about it? He's back at the home base, can do some research for us."

"Is there a reason you don't want to do it?"

"You speak better nerd than me," Dean replied with a bit of a flourish. "Come on, pack it in, we've gotta crime scene to go to."

 

"Okay, Cas, slow down," Sam said. "Head, hands, feet, great. And you think this thing is eating them, right? I mean, what else would you do with all that?"

"I found something," Kevin said. "Called a Hagondes."

"Kev's asking about a Hagondes. Says here it's a cannibalistic – " Sam paused for a moment. He finished as calmly as he could. "Clown."

"I believe Hagondes only attack children, and they don't transform into black dogs," Cas said. 

"Black dogs?" Sam asked. "You sure it's the same thing? Black dogs are usually omens."

"We know at least one victim followed the dog, likely to his death," Cas replied. "I don't think this is a spirit. It's not a shape shifter or a skin walker. Dean is insistent upon me telling you it is also not a dragon or a werewolf, although I assumed that would be obvious."

"I bet," Sam said. "Okay, good to know it's not a cannibalistic clown."

Kevin said quickly, "I'll start looking for man-eating black dogs that shape shift. Is there anything else?"

"Thanks Cas," Sam said as he hung up. He turned to Kevin, "What do you mean, anything else?" 

"Well, animal transformation and eating humans isn't really all the discriminatory in terms of monsters," Kevin said apologetically. "So do we have anything else?"

"It has leftovers, specifically hands, feet, and head."

"Does that mean anything?"

"It's not a wraith, since they drink brain juice. And it's not a Kitsune, they eat pituitary glands."

"Anyone ever tell you this job is really gross?" Kevin said as playfully as possible.

 

Dean stared up at the remains of the latest victim, which were suspended across the club's neon sign: HALO HALLOWS. His head was between the two words. 

"Classy," Dean muttered.

"Dramatic," Castiel said, loud enough for Detective Sommer to pick it up.

"You boys deal with things like this?" Sommer asked. 

"Not usually," Cas replied casually. 

"What do we got?" Dean asked.

"Nigel Delossantos. Partier."

"Adolescent, habitual drug user," Cas said to Dean, not bothering to keep his voice low. 

"What?" Sommer asked.

"Did he go missing in the dark of night?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, he was last seen in his home at midnight," Sommer replied. "You got something? A lead on this?"

"More like a working theory," Dean said.

"Do you have the information file?" the angel asked the detective.

"Sure, this is all we have right now – "

He leafed through the paperwork and stopped on Nigel's home address. "Geolocality is prevalent."

"Sorry, what?" Sommer asked. "Isn't Geo-crap related to earthquakes?"

"He does this," Dean said, pulling Sommer aside. He dropped his voice, "He'll blather stuff for ten minutes, I think I know what he means, then he turns around and tells me something completely different. Best to let him translate his own thoughts."

"Right," Sommer said. "Agents, look, this is the seventh body we know of – "

"You're right," Dean said, "you gotta list of missing persons we should check out?"

"About a dozen, sure," Sommer said. "But doesn't mean it'll do you any good."

"How many've gone missing in the last, say, two weeks?" Dean asked.

"Four. That're still missing?" Sommer said out loud, more of a question to herself, "Two."

"I'll take those files. One more question."

"Really, just one more?" 

"Anything else strange going on here lately?" Dean asked. "Weird nine one one calls, odd events – "

Sommer shook her head. "We're not that small a town, Agent. We've got tons of weird crap all the time."

"So, no spike in weird?" Dean asked. 

"I'll check."

"Great, thanks," Dean said. Then he added, "What about drugs?"

Sommer let out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine, look, yes, our drug numbers have been a little high lately."

"I'm only asking because the first six victims all had a cocktail of illegal drugs in their system," Dean said. "Maybe this guy is targeting people who party with the wrong kinda drug."

"What do you think about the missing torso, limbs, and organs?" she asked. 

"We're working on that, right now all we've come up with is weird," Dean admitted. "I mean, you don't yank a heart out of someone who's high on meth and amphetamines for an organ transplant."

"Right, of course. Tell you what," Sommer said, "Let me get you the list of dealers and what we've got from the drugs and trafficking – "

"That'd be great, but can you restrict it to club drugs?" Dean asked.

 

Castiel had pinned a city map to the wall in their motel room and marked several locations. Dean stared at it for a while, but he couldn't figure it out.

"Uh, Cas," he said. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Blue tacs mark the home addresses of the individuals. White tacs mark site last seen, and green marks body recovery."

"What're the red ones?"

"Those are dinners that I believe serve pie," Cas said. 

"Only three?"

"Dean, the case."

"Right, you said something about local crap?"

Cas nodded sagely. "Most people disappeared from this club, the Halo Hallow, but Nigel disappeared from his home address, which is half a mile from that same club."

"So our freak is on the prowl in this area," Dean agreed.

"And active only at night, as it seems."

"Okay, so if this is a bogey, something that scares that crap out of people, how does it pick its targets?" Dean asked. 

"That rules out a Croquemitaine," Cas replied. 

"What? What rules out the croak-ca-mitten?" Dean floundered.

"They are indiscriminate in location. They terrorize all areas of a town that have similar blights. So unless the three other clubs in town are perfectly devoid of the sale and usage of illicit drugs – "

"Trust me, they're not," Dean added by way of commentary.

" – then this isn't a Croquemitaine."

"Cas, what the hell is that?" 

"They are akin to Rawheads."

"Ah," Dean said, vaguely aware of taking one down. "Last Rawhead I tangled with, I almost died."

Castiel's Adam's apple dipped dramatically. "You are not allowed to die, Dean."

"Noted."


	4. Kinderschrecker

Kevin enjoyed knowledge. He couldn't be certain if that was because of the whole Prophet thing or because his mother cultivated the nerd in him from a child. Regardless, he loved to read and to understand things. 

But sometimes knowledge was more pain than power. 

Kevin had assumed, as many others before him, that the prevalence of bogeys and monsters used to scare children were either of pure invention or a coping mechanism, or in some cases, a combination of both. He had let himself believe that places, past and present, with high rates of infant and child mortality came from a lack of hygienic conditions or poor dietary options or even natural disasters. 

Of course, to some extent, that was true. The trouble was that as Kevin Tran steeped himself into the unveiled elements of the world - the monsters, ghosts, angels, demons – he couldn't pretend that the notions of modern society held true. Science labeled Shtriga attacks as plagues and attributed unclassified phenomenon under vague references to chaos theory and the human factor. 

These thoughts rumbled through his mind as he read entries on entities similar to the Hagondes, the Skatene, and Croquemitaine. Initially he had assumed the volume of entries came from the Men of Letters's diversity of languages, but he was wrong. Rawheads and Katzenveit were two separate species; besides them, dozens of other entities given a singular name actually panned out to be an entire race of monsters.

And all these bogeys shared one common goal: to subvert society by taking its future. They killed babies, toddlers, children, teenagers, and in some cases, anyone who was not considered a fully-fledged adult.

The Prophet of the Lord understood something that was not written down in any book, nor displayed in any figure or drawing possessed by the Men of Letters. It was the kind of knowledge that came to the Prophet and only the Prophet, as if the idea itself had its own life and knew when it needed to return to Earth:

Humans preyed upon one another as a byproduct of fear. Frailty proved a more sensible target than strength, so many humans preyed upon those weaker than themselves out of anxiety, terror, and insecurity. But Eve crafted monsters that targeted the vulnerable members of society because humans lived a hierarchy. By striking at the young, hope and faith faltered, and a very special element of humanity, people similar to modern-day Hunters, retaliated. The Hunters of the past were as diverse in attributes and character as the societies that produced them, but they shared a common trait: outstanding bravery in the face of forces outside human understanding and control. When a Katzenveit terrorized pre-pubescent children, there may be many people strong enough to kill the monster, but only one or two would have the force of will to accept its existence and destroy it. 

Strike at the weak, draw out the Hunters, and kill as many of them as possible so they did not continue into the next generation. Eve's culling strategy had been at work since the dawn of humanity, and not a single person ever committed those words to paper. Perhaps no human before Kevin Tran really understood this horror in a way that was communicable. 

So he wrote it down, scribbling feverishly. His body shook and his head throbbed. 

"Kev," someone said from very far away.

"Uh, yeah," Kevin said automatically, but his focus remained fixed to the page.

"What are you writing?" Sam asked. "Did you find it?"

Kevin pulled himself back to reality. He remembered. He was at the Bunker with Sam Winchester, and they had a case.

"Well, not really," Kevin replied. "I think this is sort of a Prophet thing. Either that or it's a seizure."

"Let's hope Prophet thing," Sam commented mildly. 

"Yeah, it's just like, uh, crap about someone named Eve," Kevin said. "Which is weird. Who's Eve?"

"You don't know who Eve is, but you wrote something about her?" Sam asked. "Sounds like a vision."

"Nah, more like an inner professor," Kevin replied lightly. 

"Eve is the mother of the Alphas," Sam explained. "She created the vampires, skinwalkers, shape shifters, werewolves, con-worms – "

"So she's like the mother of the monsters? Like the Leviathan?"

"Nah, not the Leviathan," Sam replied. "Or the Phoenix, apparently. I'm actually not all that clear on which she made, which ones are weird offshoots, and which ones are older that Eve."

"Rule of thumb: if it's a monster, blame Eve?"

"That's worked for us so far."

"Okay, well I found something called a Kinderschrecker, or Child-Guzzler. They target the best of the youth and pre-adults, killing them by leading them astray and decapitating them," Kevin said. 

"Anything about a dog?"

"Nothing. None of these volumes of horror and child murder and cannibalism say anything about a black dog."

"Okay, well, according to the stuff Dean sent me, all the victims shared a very prominent issue: overdose."

"What?"

"From their rap sheets, some of them were habitual drug users," Sam said. "But all of them had a lot of drugs in their system. If they hadn't been killed, they might've OD'd on their own."

"I don't know what that means," Kevin said. 

"Forget about the black dog. For all we know, it's a familiar or something – "

"Like for a witch?"

"As in, a separate entity from the real problem. Focus on freaks that target people who push the limit. I'm guessing the lore will put it in different terms – "

"Like kids out in the field, away from their parents, that try to play too late? Push the limit of the light, get caught out in the darkness?" Kevin suggested.

"Sure."

"Okay, well, that narrows it down to about ten I've read about so far."

"Let's get cracking then," Sam said taking over half the books.

 

Cas insisted on prowling around all of Gallup to seek out what he called "primal nodes." Dean tagged along, mostly because he had no idea what the angel was talking about.

"Mark down this intersection," Cas instructed from time to time. Dean rolled his eyes, but he did as asked. 

After three hours, Dean finally had enough.

"Cas, any chance on you filling me in on this?" Dean asked. "What? Is it the world's most boring Easter egg hunt? Following the Earth's magnetic line things?"

"I don't know about egg hunts. It seems impractical since they are immobile – "

"Cas, forget that. What are we doing?"

"Trying to find where this bogey came into the world," Cas replied.

"It's a freak, Cas. Came here like any other. Bitten, born, turned, whatever, right?"

"Bogeys born on this plane are drawn to locations by a collective fear," Cas explained as if Dean was a five-year-old. "But I haven't sensed a pulling terror of drug use. Just the opposite, actually."

"Which means what?"

"This bogey came onto the Earth from somewhere else, and it can only do that by traversing a primal node."

"That sounds simultaneously dirty and boring," Dean quipped. "Elaborate."

"It's essentially a doorway, one that a specific event can open for a finite period of time."

"Guessing this specific event is a crappy one?" 

"Usually, it's a particular kind of tragedy." 

"This map's got like ten markings," Dean said. "You're telling me all of them are monster doors?"

"In a manner of speaking, but like I said, the events are particular. The probability of any one of them being activated is astronomical."

"Astronomical?" Dean repeated. "Then why are we – "

"Because nothing else has given us any indication of what to do next," Cas cut him off. 

"That's true."

Cas turned into a lot and parked.

"This another hot spot or something?" Dean asked.

"No, but this place serves pie," the angel replied happily.

 

Ping! Ping! Sam's laptop beeped incessantly. 

"Sam, that thing's driving me crazy," Kevin bickered. 

"Sorry," the younger Winchester replied as he re-entered the war room. "I was running translations on some of the entries that – " He stopped abruptly. "Huh."

"Confusion or enlightenment?" Kevin asked half-joking, half-irritated.

"Nothing about a black dog, but this entry talks about the wolf's shadow," Sam said quietly. "The beast is neither man or wolf, but the shadows of the two combined, imbued with hunger and terror," Sam read out loud. 

"That's the closest we've come. Please tell me it eats people," Kevin said. 

"It's called Oude Rode Ogen, or Old Red Eyes, known for its fiery glares... eats youths who stay out at night or who fail to heed warnings from their elders... leaves the hands and feet as tribute to the earth and the head as warning to other children in the area," Sam said out loud, his eyes absorbing the poorly translated German. 

"Don't Cas and Dean need to know how to find it and kill it?"

"Says here that a specific line of Fraternal Druids passed down the ability to destroy these monsters," Sam continued to read. "We gotta book on the Wheel of Influence? That's the group we need – "

Kevin started fumbling through the card catalogue, and Sam continued reading through the entry.

 

Cas humored Dean by ordering food at the dinner, but his confused look at corn-on-the-cob made the waiter a little nervous. 

"He's got a weird sense of humor," Dean told the waiter, who nodded and left quickly. 

Dean cut the cob in half to show Cas how to eat it. 

"See, you pick it up like this, holding the ends, and bite, like a chicken leg," Dean explained.

Cas decided that this was a ridiculous exercise, but he finished the corn all the same.

"So, Cas, what else are you holding back?" Dean asked. 

Cas tilted his head inquisitively. 

"I mean, all that primal node crap. You've known that all along, didn't bother to mention it I guess it kinda makes sense. A lot of ghosts and spirits get into the world – "

"Actually, they fail to leave the world," Cas corrected. 

"Shut up," Dean replied affectionately. "So why haven't your brought up this super-doors before, huh?"

"Never had occasion to bring it up," Cas replied. "And most of the doorways haven't been opened in thousands of years."

"Any of these?"

"I can't tell," the angel admitted. "But the drug report included a body discovered at one of the intersections. Kyle Washburn."

"Let me guess, his body was found over the magic doorway we passed just before we came here?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, how did he snuff it?"

"The autopsy said an overdose," Castiel said. "And the police traced Mr. Washburn's activities to the Halo Hallows club."

"Okay, so what do you think this thing is?" Dean asked. "I mean, this did give you an insight, right?"

"Lustucru."

"A lusty crew? Doesn't sound like the type to chomp down on you for dinner."

Cas smiled. Dean's humor had annoyed him initially, but lately it has come as a warm comfort. A reminder that the trials and tribulations could be survived with happiness still intact. 

"Lustucru are monsters that are warnings from wrongful deaths, so I imagine that Kyle Washburn's death was not solely an overdose."

"Like someone slipped it to him?"

"Or lied to him so he'd take it," Cas said dismissively. "That is not of import."

"It's not?" Dean asked, slightly annoyed at Castiel's callousness.

"It's not his spirit causing deaths, Dean," Cas replied. "When he died, the door opened, and a Lustucru slipped onto this plane."

"Okay, so you know how to kill it?"

Castiel looked demure. "I texted Sam before we came in – "

Dean began to interrupt, but the angel talked over him, "There are dozens of different kinds of Lustucru, and all that's known about them is that they are dangerous bogeys. Their name means 'had you believed', because had you believed they existed, you would never have gone astray." 

"So, nothing."

"No, all it means is that angels haven't dealt with them recently. Or at least not the garrison," Cas replied. "I am certain that the Men of Letters will have information on the Lustucru."


	5. Lustucru

"You sure?" Dean said into his phone. "I'm asking because if we can kill the thing, we still need to find it, and if it's preying on – "

"No," Sam cut his older brother off. "You can't possibly be thinking about taking drugs to lure this thing – "

"It would be easier to stake out a likely candidate," Castiel said from the bed. "I've smelled enough crystal meth-tainted blood to follow it – "

"Okay, first, Cas, gross," Dean said. Then he spoke into his phone, "Cas is gonna use a super-smelling power to track the-most-likely-to-be-snacked on clubber tonight. So, how do we kill it again?"

"An arrow or a spear dipped in a Celtic Blessing Oil," Sam repeated for the third time. "Stab it through the heart, neck, or eye."

"I like the variety," Dean replied. "Too bad we don't have a bow and arrow packed in the trunk."

"It's the twenty-first century, we don't need crossbows and arrows," Sam replied.

"No, but we do need a spear," Dean countered. "I'll drop you a line later." He hung up. Then Dean asked, "Cas, can you handle the Celtic Blessing Oil?"

"Does that mean you'll acquire the spear?"

"Yeah, but the trouble with spears is that they're not exactly stealthy."

Cas smiled a wide, bright smile that reached his eyes. It was the first time he looked honestly happy in days. "Dean," Cas said, indicating his trench coat. 

"This is why we keep you around, Cas," Dean remarked playfully. 

"I thought it was for the sexual intercourse, teleportation, and – "

Dean actually kissed the angel to shut him up. When they pulled apart he said, "That was a joke, Cas. Don't be such a baby."

 

The Halo Hallow remained popular on Wednesday nights, although the music was lower. Cas was too busy concentrating on the smell to really chat, so Dean leaned against tall tables or pillars making eyes at anyone who stared too long at him. A few showed interest, but he managed to defer them to someone nearby. 

Cas appeared at Dean's elbow suddenly, forcing the hunter to jolt in surprise. 

"Cas – "

"Her," the angel said. He pointed to a skinny woman with black hair and blond streaks as she bobbed through the dance floor. "She also said she was going to score. I'm not sure she should be adding numbers right now but – "

"No, no, no," Dean said as they weaved after the girl. "Score. It means to buy drugs."

"Are you sure?" Cas asked, ready to follow the woman out into the alley.

"Woah, woah," Dean said, forcing Cas to wait with him behind the door. 

"Can you tell what she's doing from here?" Dean asked. "We don't want to scare the – whatever it is - "

"Oude Rode Ogen," Cas suggested. "I see it. The black dog."

"Shadow wolf, according to Sam," Dean corrected unnecessarily. "Is she following it?"

Cas didn't respond. He opened the door and pulled Dean along with him, keeping far enough behind the girl to avoid detection. They had both agreed Castiel might need to teleport to kill this thing, which meant he'd also have to bolt out of here to evade the God squad. 

Dean motioned to Cas to head them off, hoping the angel's super-smelling power would hold true out in the open air. 

They rounded off at a turn, which lead them to an alleyway so sketchy even Dean would avoid it.

Oude Rode Ogen never worried about being hunted; he had the arrogance of an ancient hunter on the prowl in a world filled with easy meat. Once he finished his initial lure and brought his dinner to his door, he turned around, ready to shift – 

Pain splintered through his neck, followed by a fiery sensation that raked his entire body. Oude Rode Ogen howled out for the first time in centuries. 

The woman, his dinner-to-be, screamed when she saw what he really was, and Dean directed her out of the alley. 

Oude Rode Ogen threw himself on Dean slashing and snarling, only to be thrown off of him. His assailant pulled the spear out and threw him against the alley wall.

"You stabbed it through the neck!" Dean said to Cas. "Sam said that'd do it – "

"Perhaps the lore was incorrect."

"Fantastic," Dean said. "Now we've got a pissed off – whatever this thing is."

Hissing and spitting, the shadow wolf morphed into his shadow human form, and his eyes blazed red in rage as he barreled down at his two unwelcome dinner guests. 

Dean took the spear and thrust it out in front of them in time to catch Oude Rode Ogen's left eye. As the tip sunk into the eye socket, it made a squelching and popping noise that Dean found far too enjoyable. 

The shadow bubbled as the man's form drew into his eyes, like a swarm amassing together. In the next instant, a crackle and zap hit the air as Oude Rode Ogen exploded, covering the dumpster, walls, and doors as well as Castiel and Dean with a bloody splatter. 

"I swear to God, if Sam knew this thing was gonna explode – "

"We should probably leave," Cas said, "and wash the human entrails off ourselves."

"Human entrails?"

"Oude Rode Ogen has eaten a person every night for over a week – "

"Cas, stop talking, and let's go get this shit off of us. Like yesterday."

 

Sam didn't know when Kevin slept, if he ever slept. He stayed in the war room later than Sam, and he was awake before Sam, too. 

This morning was no different. Kevin sat in the war room, writing things down.

"Morning," Sam mumbled as he stumbled over to the coffee. 

"Yeah," Kevin replied.

"You still writing stuff?" Sam asked. 

"You have no idea, it's like things are just, you know, flowing – "

"Things? From the tablets?"

"No, no," Kevin said. "Well, I dunno. I don't know what other tablets are out there."

"So someone's, what, whispering in your ear?"

"No, it's – I can't describe it. You think this has to do with Lucifer?"

"Maybe, or maybe it's a Prophet growth spurt?" 

They settled in for breakfast, and a few hours later, Dean and Cas returned. 

"We need to add that Oude Rode Ogen need to be impaled in their human form," Dean said casually. "Oh, and they freaking explode!" 

Sam couldn't hold back his laughter. "How bad?"

"We had human remains plastered over us head to foot," Cas added in complete deadpan. Then he completely switched gears when he saw Kevin. "You're receiving Revelation."

"Sorry, what?" Dean said.

"But Chuck's Revelation came with headaches and mandatory drinking binges," Sam commented. 

"Chuck received the Revelation of the Future, which tends to be more painful," Cas said dryly. "Kevin is receiving Revelation of the Great Truths."

"Perfect sense," Dean said as he walked away. "I'm gonna go shower for four hundred years."

"So these Revelations," Sam said to Cas, "what does it mean?"

"Natural progression of the Prophet, but in general it is a bad sign," the angel replied. He added hopefully, "Unless you are purposefully seeking Revelation, Kevin, which is entirely different than – "

"I don't think I am."

Cas sighed and his entire body looked weak. "Then we need to get ready."

"For what?" Sam was the one to ask. 

"Anything. Everything," Cas said. "I believe Dean calls these events shit-storms."


End file.
